Night in the heart of the Hollow Forest was not merely a lack of light; it was an existence that seemed to breathe with a predatory intent. The mana mist, thick and bruised in a shade of dark purple, hung low among the twisted tree branches that reached out like giant, skeletal fingers trying to grasp the indifferent heavens. The distant, mournful howls of unseen predators and the rhythmic hissing of nocturnal creatures created a chilling aura capable of shattering the mental fortitude of any novice knight.
Yet, amidst the visceral madness of Asyama's nature, a small shadow darted with a speed that defied the physical laws of a seven-year-old body.
Razzaq Graymore utilized the Wind-Step Art (Saipi Angin) with a proficiency that far surpassed his clumsy attempt from the previous night. His infant frame was finally beginning to synchronize with the iron will of his primordial soul. Every leap was a ghost-like glide, every landing a silent whisper upon the damp earth. He was no longer just moving fast; he was slicing through the wind, leaving no footprint, no scent, and no sound. His mind was locked onto a single set of spiritual coordinates in the dense heart of the forest: the Grey Valley.
After a challenging trek through the unstable terrain where the very ground seemed to shift under the pressure of chaotic mana, Razzaq finally arrived at the ancient stone altar. He stood tall, regulating his breathing to align with the deep, rhythmic heartbeat of the earth. In his small, pale hand, he gripped a crystal vial containing pure mountain water he had blessed with a cleansing incantation during his seclusion in the castle.
He placed the vial at the center of the moss-covered altar, directly beneath the cold, silver spotlight of Norvane's moon.
This vessel has finally passed the initial stage of soul-circuit maturation. It is time to summon my spiritual anchor, Razzaq thought, his eyes reflecting the pale moonlight like polished silver.
He knew that to survive the viper's nest of House Graymore and navigate the cruel, mana-centric politics of the Norvane Kingdom, he couldn't rely solely on his underdeveloped muscles. He needed authority. He needed an entity capable of balancing the raw, violent Mana of this world with the fluid, surgical refinement of Nusantara's occult energy. And there was no one more fitting for that task than the Sovereign of the Southern Seas.
Razzaq sat cross-legged, his tiny fingers forming an incredibly complex summoning mudra that involved his own blood and the resonance of his soul. He began to chant in Kawi (Ancient Javanese), his voice sounding like a soft trickle of water that gradually transformed into the thunderous, earth-shaking roar of crashing waves.
"Ingsun amatek ajiku, Pangruwatan Sukma... Saking purwa dumadi, karsaning Gusti... O Princess who reigns upon the throne of coral, mistress of the foam and the storm, heed the call of the soul that has crossed the boundaries of death!"
In the deep archives of his mind, Razzaq unrolled the scrolls of history he had carried from Nusantara. He recalled the legend of Princess Kadita. A beautiful princess of the Pajajaran Kingdom betrayed by the venomous palace intrigues. Her exquisite body had been ravaged by black magic until she threw herself into the turbulent southern seas in despair.
But the ocean did not kill her; instead, it washed away her mortal wounds and granted her absolute dominion over every supernatural being in the deep. That legend gave birth to Nyi Roro Kidul, the S-tier Guardian Spirit who, in his previous life, had served as both a loyal ally and a spiritual protector to Ki Bungkuk Jagad.
Instantly, the atmosphere in the Grey Valley shifted with a violence that made the air hum.
The humidity around the altar spiked with terrifying speed. The purple mana mist, a signature of the Hollow Forest's corruption, was suddenly pushed back by a dominant force. It was replaced by a blue-green haze that bore a startlingly different scent. The odor of rotting earth and dead wood vanished, replaced by the fresh, invigorating salt of the sea, the damp breeze of a tropical shoreline, and the intoxicatingly sharp fragrance of blooming Jasmine (Melati) that felt both sacred and aphrodisiacal.
The ground beneath the altar began to weep water miraculously, as if a dimensional rift to the ocean floor had been torn open beneath the roots of the forest. The water surged upward, swirling around the altar before forming a massive, vertical vortex of liquid jade. In the center of the whirlpool, a pulse of pure emerald light exploded, illuminating every corner of the valley and causing the Ancient Spirits hiding in the canopies to shiver in primal fear.
From within the curtain of swirling water, she emerged.
The woman stepped out with a grace that defied human description. She wore a traditional kemben of emerald green, crafted from ethereal silk that shimmered as if it were woven from the scales of a divine serpent. Gold embroidery formed intricate wave patterns along the fabric, glinting under the moonlight. Her skin was a radiant, sun-kissed gold, glowing with a divine luster. Her long, jet-black hair flowed like liquid silk, adorned with a golden crown set with shimmering green gems. Her eyes were her most hypnotic feature—a clear emerald green like shallow tropical waters, yet harboring depths capable of drowning the soul of a god.
The energy radiating from her was no longer the crude Mana of Asyama, but Oceanic Essence—the power of the vast, infinite sea, calm on the surface yet crushing at the depths. As her slender, bared feet touched the cold stone of the altar, the Queen immediately knelt with supreme elegance.
"I answer your call, My Lord... Ki Bungkuk Jagad. All the oceans and their denizens remain loyal under your command—"
The Queen's voice, melodious as the strings of a celestial harp, suddenly faltered. Her lowered head slowly tilted upward. As her emerald eyes caught the figure standing before her, the majestic authority she had cultivated for thousands of years instantly fractured.
She did not see the powerful, stooped old man with an intimidating mystical aura that could command the dead. Before her stood a seven-year-old boy with shimmering silver-gray hair, large clear eyes, and chubby cheeks reddened by the night air.
A heavy, suffocating silence followed. The Queen seemed frozen, her divine mind struggling to reconcile the terrifying soul of her master with the tiny, fragile body before her.
"Master...?" her voice trembled, this time not from respect, but from pure, unadulterated shock. "Why... why have you shrunk into such a... tiny, adorable marble?!"
The dignity of the Sovereign of the Southern Seas crumbled in an instant. Nyi Roro Kidul was no longer kneeling. She stood up abruptly, her eyes sparkling with a sudden, overwhelming maternal instinct that had lay dormant for eons. The protective and nurturing nature she usually reserved for her supernatural subjects exploded the moment she laid eyes on Razzaq's new form.
"Duh Gusti... this is truly too much! You are too precious!"
Without warning, the Queen lunged forward with blinding speed. Before Razzaq could even activate his defensive reflex, he was already caught in a tight, warm, and fragrant embrace. Razzaq's small face was buried against the emerald silk and the suffocatingly sweet scent of jasmine. Nyi Roro Kidul held him as if he were the rarest porcelain doll in the cosmos, rubbing her cheek against his and kissing the crown of his head repeatedly.
"Master, you are so tiny! How could such a terrifying soul inhabit such a comely little body?! I want to wrap you up and take you back to my coral palace right now!" the Queen exclaimed with a completely informal tone, utterly disregarding the protocol of the Master-Spirit relationship.
Razzaq, who was mentally a centuries-old sorcerer, felt his pride shatter and sink into the deepest trenches of the ocean. His usually cold, expressionless face turned a bright, apoplectic red from sheer embarrassment. He tried to struggle, pushing against the Queen's soft shoulders with his tiny hands, but to Nyi Roro Kidul, his resistance only looked like a pampered child being playful.
"Release... Nyai! You... you are overstepping! Maintain your... dignity!" Razzaq shouted, but his voice sounded high-pitched and squeaky even to his own ears. "Respect my position as your Master!"
"Forgive me, My Lord! But I truly cannot help myself," the Queen finally loosened her grip, though her hands remained on Razzaq's cheeks, staring at him with a smile that was sweet yet carried a dangerous, oceanic edge. "I promise you, anyone in this world who dares to make you cry or hurts your feelings will have their soul dragged to the deepest palung and erased from existence!"
In the midst of this absurd moment, the Ancient Spirit of the Hollow Forest peeked out from behind the dead trees, intending to pay its respects to the new authority. However, the moment the forest spirit saw Nyi Roro Kidul, it began to shake violently. The presence of a high-tier Water Deity in the middle of a dry, mana-corrupted forest was an anomaly of apocalyptic proportions.
Nyi Roro Kidul turned her gaze toward the forest spirit. Her eyes, which had been filled with love for Razzaq, instantly became cold, cynical, and lethal. Her hair seemed to move as if caught in an underwater current, and thousands of crystalline water needles materialized in the air, aimed directly at the spirit's core.
"Lowly creature... you dare look upon my Master with those filthy, prying eyes?" the Queen hissed, her aura exploding with enough force to make the moisture in the entire valley vibrate.
"Wait, Nyai! Don't!" Razzaq quickly tugged at the hem of the Queen's emerald dress. "He has already submitted to me. Do not destroy him; I still need him to maintain the secrecy of this territory."
Nyi Roro Kidul immediately retracted her aura, her face returning to a cheerful, gentle expression as she looked back at Razzaq, as if she hadn't just nearly obliterated an ancient entity. "Of course, My Lord. Whatever you command, I shall obey... though, perhaps after just one more hug?"
Razzaq took a long, deep breath, trying to calm his energy circuits which were in disarray from embarrassment. He then began to briefly explain his reincarnation in the Asyama continent, the treacherous House Graymore, and how he was currently viewed as a "trash" vessel because he lacked the crude Mana of this world.
Hearing this, the Queen's emerald eyes narrowed with a cold, terrifying fury. "The humans here are truly blind. They do not know that the ocean does not need recognition from a puddle of rainwater to prove its strength. If you wish, My Lord, I can sweep that castle away with a tsunami in a single night."
"Do not be reckless, Nyai. I need time to rebuild my vessel and gather the other spirits," Razzaq said seriously. "For now, I will place you back into my soul seal. You can be summoned whenever I need you, but while you are there, monitor my surroundings constantly. I suspect my 'family' will not stay quiet for long."
"I understand, My Lord," the Queen bowed with a respect that had finally returned, though a twinkle of mischief remained in her eyes. "I shall return to my realm, yet I will always remain within your shadow. No magic or blade in this world shall touch you without first passing through my waves."
Razzaq recited the Recall Mantra. The figure of Nyi Roro Kidul slowly dissolved into shimmering water particles scented with jasmine, which were then drawn into Razzaq's chest, merging with the World Diamond Essence. A soothing, damp coolness enveloped Razzaq's soul core, providing a sense of security he hadn't felt since being born into this world.
That night, Razzaq returned to Castle Graymore using the Wind-Step Art. His feelings were a chaotic mix. He was relieved to have a high-tier protector, yet he felt profoundly stressed knowing that in front of his own Guardian Spirit, he was now merely a "cute child."
He slipped back into his room through the second-floor window, changed his clothes, and lay down in bed. Just before he drifted off, he heard a melodious, teasing whisper within his mind.
"Goodnight, my adorable Master... do not forget to dream sweet dreams, for your Queen will always be guarding you from within."
Razzaq pulled his blanket up, covering his entire face which had turned red once again. Damn it... my dignity has truly hit rock bottom in front of my own subordinate, he thought, annoyed yet undeniably relieved.
Tomorrow would be a new day in the House of Graymore, and for Razzaq, his brother's mockery or his father's coldness no longer carried any weight. Because deep within his chest, he carried the power of an ocean—and the goddess of that ocean was far more terrifying than any knight in Norvane.
Far away in the capital, an ancient mana-detector hummed for a split second, sensing a ripple of energy that didn't belong to this world. The gears of fate were beginning to turn, faster than Razzaq anticipated.